


brad/nate - hackthis's get some universe 1

by romanticalgirl



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based on hackthis's story "Get Some"</p><p>Originally posted 7-19-09</p>
    </blockquote>





	brad/nate - hackthis's get some universe 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on hackthis's story "Get Some"
> 
> Originally posted 7-19-09

Brad gets a ride home from the picnic with one of the seniors, knowing better than to ask Nate for a ride. Getting a ride with Nate is getting a ride with Natalie, and Brad's already had more than enough of that than he can stand. It's not even deliberate anymore, not like it was when they first started going out. Back then, Natalie made sure that Brad saw every touch, every kiss. Now she doesn't seem to care - she's claimed her territory, planted her flag - and Brad doesn't matter. She's won.

Brad closes the door to his room and shoves the chair under the knob. His parents and sisters always mean well, but sometimes he's a little lost in the midst of them. Just enough of an outsider that he needs this private time, this space. He falls back on his bed, kicking his flip flops off, and lies there, arm over his forehead, staring at his ceiling. There are glow-in-the-dark stars up there, arranged in precise constellations. He and Nate had spent hours in seventh grade with Brad's protractor and graph paper and Nate's telescope getting them just right. Only Virgo was wrong, since that was when they'd gotten in the argument over whether or not Missy was a virgin and Nate had tackled Brad to the floor and they'd lost three stars somewhere and couldn't ever find them.

Pretty much every memory Brad has is connected to Nate, and everything before Nate doesn't seem to matter. The problem is that his "before Nate" and "after Nate" has been subdivided into "before Natalie" and "after Natalie". Even today - what should have been an awesome day of throwing the ball and seeing who could do the stupidest frisbee tricks was marred by Nate's half-assed tosses because he was too busy kissing Natalie to throw the fucking ball.

"Shit." Brad kicks at the end of his bed and collapses back onto the pillow. "Stupid fucking..." He bites off the words and closes his eyes. This is his own fault, as far as having...feelings for someone can be his fault. But Nate is his and it bothers the hell out of him that Nate doesn't know it, doesn't get it. Hell, even Natalie gets it otherwise she wouldn't give a shit about rubbing it in.

He grabs the pillow from beneath his head and starts to toss it, wanting to vent at something, to rail at the universe, but instead he just clutches it tight to his chest. Something wells up in his throat and he shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly. He's not going to do this bullshit. He's not going to give in to this. Nate will figure it out - whatever it is - and everything will go back to normal.

Normal. Where it's just Brad and Nate, like two musketeers, doing everything together. Brad turns on his side, the pillow pressed against him and slips his hand down inside his shorts. More and more the everything he wants to do with Nate ends like this, with his hand on his cock and imagining Nate there beside him, imagining it's Nate's body instead of the pillow that he's grinding against. This part isn't normal, it's new, but it's good. It takes Brad's breath away to picture Nate against him, his dick hard against Brad's. To turn all the times he's seen Nate's dick into the reality of it wrapped in his hand.

He closes his eyes, breath catching, as he rocks into his fist. He can see Nate from the afternoon - hair catching the sun and shining, green eyes flashing with humor, his mouth curved in a smile right before he leaned in to... Brad cuts off the thought, going back to Nate's hands around his soda can, around the football. Long, tapered fingers that would wrap all the way around Brad's dick, would stroke him with the same smooth pumping motion that sends passes flying down the field.

Brad ducks his head, breathing hard into the pillowcase as his thumb slides across the head, and the drop of precome reminds him of Nate's tongue darting out to lick the drop of ketchup off his wrist. Biting the pillow, Brad concentrates on the ridge, rubbing it until it feels nearly raw from his grip, desperate and too tight. He wants to come, wants to feel himself spurt in his palm and then jack himself again with it, think about stroking Nate's spunk over his cock. He comes then, his whole body jerking and leaving him spent, still too close to the edge to let go and introduce a whole new set of sensations.

Instead Brad closes his eyes and curls in on the pillow, cock still in his fist. He needs to move, needs to clean himself up, but for right now he just wants to lie here and think about Nate, get it out of his system before he risks sneaking over to the Fick house and crawling through Nate's window, hoping that Nate's alone, hoping Nate's waiting for him.


End file.
